Freshly Cut Grass
by lamatikah
Summary: Romantic tragedy has never been so mellow. jinoralin jinolin oneshot.


_In his cell, her shrieks were suffocating him amidst the silky hot air. He knew his love was ending._

The aspirates. The sibilance. Jinora shivered from the beauty of it.

_In the next room over, she was dying. Murdered. Prisoned in this foreign land, to be killed by kidnappers._

Oh, the soon-to-be tragic circumstances were always so wonderful!

_The hot air was dry. He had no water here. Why had they come here? Why Why Why? Desperation and panic boiled within him like the blood of a dragon and he suddenly clawed at the wall which separated him from her. He screamed and cried, wept for her to be next to him, nearer. She was so close but not so much that they could ever be reunited._

So close but so far – classic.

_A man, a guard, came to the door._

"_Silence," said the man._

_The blood of a dragon._

_Within seconds the firebender was pinned to a wall. It seemed blood was as good as water._

Bloodbending! Jinora was definitely going to put this on her favourite story shelf.

Though Gran-Gran might disapprove.

_With a slam he rocketed through the door and down the corridor. He followed the sound of screams and within seconds reached the heavy door behind which his lover was being tortured. He rested all his weight on the door and pushed. The door burst open and inside-_

"Hey, watcha reading there?"

Jinora jumped and slammed the book shut, startled by the male voice so close to her ear.

"No – way! That is not _The Tragic Tale of Torla and Aimek_! This was my favourite book when I was younger." Jinora whipped around and Bolin, inches from her face, stared at her with his earth-bender green eyes. He grinned. Then was suddenly pensive. "No, you know what. Yep. That was the only book I read."

What.

What?

It took Jinora a couple of moments for the statement to sink in. "Um, you mean when you were younger?"

"Ever."

"_What_?! That's ridiculous!"

Bolin's face dropped. "Hey! Your … _face_ is ridiculous."

There was a beat.

"That showed you."

Jinora stared, open mouthed, at this idiot. He paced the room for a few moments. It was the comfortable sitting room, the one with the silken cushions and drapes, the one for _quiet_ time – for peace and escape from the rudeness of the outside world. Which this friend of Korra's was forcing upon her every time he opened his mouth.

"Look, I don't mean to be impolite, _Bo_-_lin_" - she stretched his name out sardonically, being the best way she could insult someone to their face - "but this is actually one of the meditation areas of the temple and-"

"Maybe you could teach me!"

For the first time in her life, Jinora had to do a double-take. This was infuriating! Why couldn't he just stick with one train of thought? He was like a child – like Meelo! – jumping from one synapse to the next. Bolin looked expectantly at her, beaming like a fool, hands in front of him like teaching someone involved literally passing knowledge from one person to another.

"But – teach you what?"

"Reading," is what he said as though this was obvious. Jinora was glad she was sat down because if not, she would probably have fallen over.

He couldn't _read_?

"But – then – what – how did you read _The Tragic Tale of Torla and Aimek_ in the first place?"

"My brother read it to me. He was rubbish though. He didn't do the voices properly."

Jinora had to concur; the characters' voices were very important to get right.

"I'm no good at teaching people."

"I'm sure that's not true! You're so clever, look at you. I bet you're great at teaching!"

Despite herself, Jinora blushed. _He called me clever. _Bolin plunked down next to her on the plush settee. It sunk in and brought her closer to him than she would've chosen. But he didn't seem to mind. And he smelled quite nice. Kind of like freshly cut grass.

"Um." Her voice came out breathy and pathetic. She cleared her throat and opened the book at the first page. "We could start here, I suppose."

"Oh, yes! Thanks, Jinora! You are _the_ best." Bolin threw his arms around her and she blushed even more.

"Can you read any of this?"

"Hm." Bolin put a thoughtful hand to his chin and seemed to muse over the page. Then slowly: "Nuh-oh. No. No, I can't read any."

She turned to look up at his face. He looked crushed. Something triggered inside of Jinora.

"We'll start with this word. What's this word?"

"I … don't know?"

"That word, Bolin, is _love_."

"Love."

_Well_, thought Jinora as she watched Bolin stroke the word as though he could soak the memory of it into his skin, _it may not be a tragedy. But there's just something about him. And, I suppose, the smell of freshly cut grass _is_ the smell of the grass protesting in agony._

* * *

"Korra, could you pass me the beans please?"

"Sure. Here. Oh hey, Jinora. Was Bolin round earlier? I thought I saw him, but he didn't come see me. Did he leave you a message for me or something?"

Jinora rolled her eyes. _Korra, honestly, the world doesn't revolve around you. Oh wait. Scratch that. The Avatar._

"No. He was here to see me."

Korra paused a moment. Then burst into laughter.

"What! No, come on, be real. That's ridiculous."

"Well. Your … face is ridiculous."

Ha ha.

That would show her.

* * *

an: they are so cute i can't. but now i know about eska. when it comes to avatar i've always been a bit of a slutty shipper. i just ship bolin with happiness ok.


End file.
